Concordia in Tempestas
by CharmiaArkenstone
Summary: A revised/re-created 'Harmony and Thunder'. Nine clans of mortals live among the Aesir in reward for faith and sacrifice. Years later, tradition and convention crumble when two impossible lovers come together. In the midst of their own battles, they find themselves in a war for their hearts, where defeat is not an option. Thor/OC. Hints of Loki/OC. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: From Times Long Gone

**Greetings to all!**

**This is a revised/re-created version of Harmony and Thunder, but it's not necessary for you to have read the original, though of course you are welcome to.**

**Loosely translated, the title means 'Harmony in the Storm' from Latin.**

**This version will have parts added, expanded, altered or thrown out altogether. If you have read the original, or even if you haven't, ideas about the plot are always welcome, and if there is anything you think should be left out or included then let me know! Your input will be highly valued :)**

**Please enjoy, R&amp;R!**

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In times long gone, before the Aesir had fallen into myth and legend alone, those most faithful to their gods were rewarded for the sacrifices they had made.

Humankind had learnt that they were not alone, and became fearful towards the unknown and their own sudden insignificance. By the cruel hand of fate, the race of mortals were still in their infancy, fragile and ignorant. An easy target for hostile powers that lay within the Nine Realms. Their courage and spirits were not enough to protect them, their developing minds not yet ready to balance their weaknesses. In the eyes of the cosmos, humanity was all but defenceless.

In times all but forgotten, before the mortals had truly understood how helpless they were, an army of ice and cold descended upon them.

The fools, courageous without wisdom, charged into the fray. Annihilated within minutes, their single success was allowing the brave and wise a little precious time to rally their god-fearing kin to a place of natural defence, a waiting miracle from the beginning of Midgard's creation out of Ymir's body. But nothing of Midgard could stop the oncoming onslaught of the blue-skinned, red-eyed monsters. Mortal weapons could not save them; swords and axes couldn't pierce the skin, arrows bounced off, walls tumbled like they were piles of dried leaves. In a final struggle, a final call to rally, a final charge, every man, woman and child held a prayer to their lips.

And in times never recalled, before humanity was forced into the surrendering silence of death, the gods above answered. An army of Asgard, led by Odin the All Father, who had partaken in the creation of Midgard and the first mortals, crossed the Bifrost. At his sides were his sons, Thor and Loki. Thunderer and Trickster. Landing upon Midgard's soil, they stood strong between the creatures of ice that they knew to be from the frozen waste of Jotenheim, and the last survivors, who had grouped together instinctively. Loki, a master of sorcery, shrouded the Midgardians in thick mist so they were hidden from the battle but could still faintly see what lay beyond, while Thor, strongest of all Asgardians, led the charge alongside his father.

From their safety, the mortals watched as their gods fought and fell for them, and found that they could not simply stand by. Men, skilled in battle, stormed through the mist, taking hold of weapons from fallen Asgardians; women, skilled in healing, followed bravely with eyes like hawks, searching for those who had not lost the final battle. When the gods saw such displays of courage, kindness and gallantry, they decided, once the battle was won, to offer sanctuary for those exceptional mortals and their families in the realm eternal, Asgard.

Among the many families, nine came from what could be called the aristocracy; each of those families was given to a single patron god or goddess, by choice of the gods. To symbolize the alliance forged that day, the mortals would pay utmost devotion to their patron deity above all others, and in return, their deity would protect them. The patron deities then chose from the remaining families, who had made up the common people, selecting a handful each to serve and live alongside their chosen family from the aristocracy.

Nine halls, nine family crypts and nine manor houses were erected around the golden palace, and nine segments of land were allocated in the nearby countryside for each of the collected groups of families. That way, they could travel between the city and country however they wished. A common trend arose to have children born in the country and have them take up residence near the palace for their educations, whatever they might be. They saw no fit reason to ever leave Asgard as their home.

And so the world of mortals may have forgotten them, but they never forgot their Midgard.

Down the generations, the mortals dedicated years of their youth educating themselves on their history and how Midgard was changing through time while they watched from afar. The close connection to their homeland was what kept them from fully integrating with the Asgardians. And as the years passed, over centuries, the Asgardian mortals became more alike and unlike their native people – the skills and attributes attached to each family gradually changed, they took Midgardian surnames, even creating forenames names of their own, they appealed to Midgardian morals and sentiments, their physiologies and abilities remained the same; however, each generation lived longer than the last, allowing greater wisdom and maturity, bringing about the term 'immortal mortals' with it.

The nine aristocratic families developed a closer link to their patron deity than the other families in the collective clan. Rather intelligently, in the halls built around the palace, a council chamber was added so that they could essentially have meetings with their god or goddess with matters such as marriages, births and deaths, or any other matter that concerned them. For while the mortals had been granted reward and sanctuary, they were not equal to the Asgardians and any disobedience was dealt with brutally. It was in the best interest that a harmonious relationship was kept between the Midgardians and Asgardians. Side by side with the council chambers, a court for each clan of families was always available in the halls, and the patron would take part in the most important cases personally. A further tradition that evolved was that when a son or daughter reached the age of sixteen, they were formerly introduced to their patron god and could take part in council meetings or in court cases if they so wished, and were eligible for marriage.

It did not really matter that the families no longer matched with their god or goddess, maybe suiting another deity or deities, because the two had become truly devoted to each other and breaking that bond was not an option.

* * *

A millennia had passed.

Two fourteen year olds, twins, sat wrapped in each other's arms, tears trickling silently down their cheeks. Being twins, they had the same red chestnut hair, deep rich brown eyes, short heights and delicate, lithe builds, and it was their sexes that set them distinctly apart. As children, only a tiny handful of people could tell them apart. Everything was noisier in the manor house than in the country, and they could hear muffled voices and footsteps in the other rooms. When they had travelled together from the peaceful countryside to visit their mother, nothing happened like they thought it would. It was their mother they took after, especially the girl, in both body and soul.

When they saw her, she didn't look like either of them.

It almost made them grateful that their brothers and sisters were still being kept in the country, that they didn't see their mother like that. Her weak words had frightened them, soft and sad. Too much like a prayer. Too much like a farewell.

Then, the physician ushered them quickly from the room, and that was the last time Harmony and Kistain ever saw their mother. But it was what followed after that would scar their minds forever. Hours later, they had not moved from the embrace they had fallen into, not noticing that three bodies were taken from the manor instead of just one.

A year before, it had been their mother's cousin, and now her. The dice had yet to be rolled in deciding who was next.

Eventually, the twins climbed into a single bed in the large room intended for all the brothers and sisters. Eyes sore and heads aching, Harmony and Kistain settled themselves, sniffing as they made themselves comfortable. Snuggling down, Harmony buried her face in her brother's chest, his warm arms wrapping around her tightly, and she gripped his shirt collar, clinging to him like she was afraid he would slip away from her as well. Another burst of tears flooded her tired eyes, catching her off guard and her lips trembled violently under the pressure of keeping them sealed.

Time became lost to them. The stars were high in the heavens before merciful sleep clouded their memories and nursed them into blissful silence, still wrapped tight in each other.

The following day, Harmony and Kistain's brothers and sisters travelled to the city of Asgard, accompanied by their uncle, brother of their mother from the country. The twins had had to bind themselves with iron restraint when they stood with their siblings to be told, officially, that their mother had passed on. All seven children had been so close together, completely innocent and helpless, as they stood before their father and the physician that had treated their mother. Harmony found herself envious of her sisters, Clerna and Rose, who at the ages of three and one, had not yet come to understand the concept of death fully; Rose could not even stand and played with Harmony's hair and clothes as she had held her.

As they were told, Harmony looked to her youngest brother, Colba, and wondered if even he, at the age of five, fully understood what was meant when they said their mother had passed on, but it was certain that Charmia and Arro knew full well. By the age of twelve, and even nine, there was no innocence left in death.

Kistain kept a firm hand on Harmony's back the whole time, resting the other on Colba's shoulder, who stood in front of him, more than small enough to fit under his chin. After they had been told, they were sent to the nursery chamber where they all slept when they stayed in the manor house, the largest section of which was dedicated to their family, the Lockeharts.

They had always been, since the beginning, the largest of the nine families, so were given the largest manor house to share with the other families in their clan.

Clerna, innocent but intuitive, knew there was something desperately wrong but could not understand what. And it was not until Harmony explained it to her, fighting tears of her own through gritted teeth and a locked jaw, that Clerna finally understood. The little girl burst in tears, crying out for her mother. Harmony gripped her tightly, her resolve crumbling into broken sobs, which then infected Rose so Kistain had to nurse and comfort her back to quiet. Not a single eye was dry that day.

By the night, the children had no more to spill, and they went to bed in pairs, aside from Rose who was tucked peacefully in her cot. None of them could bear to be by themselves. Clerna buried herself in Charmia's arms, Arro and Colba snuggled close together, and Harmony and Kistain held each other so that every inch of their bodies were touching. It was the only consolation that they could find, knowing they weren't alone. They might have been lost, but not alone, never alone.

A week later, they held the funeral. The entire Lockehart family attended along with families and friends of the clan, and of course their patron god. The body of their mother was buried in the family crypt, but all her possessions – that had not been left to family or friends – were nestled lovingly into a beautifully crafted longboat to sail over the edge of Asgard.

Dressed in respectful black, the seven Lockehart children stood together as if being painted, and while some of the younger ones wept, Harmony's face had become set like stone. The cold exterior had forged itself day after day as she became increasingly afraid that if she opened herself up again, she would never be able to stop. The water lapped near their feet, and the temptation to walk forward and tread the waves was almost too much. Their father, their patron, and close relatives of their mother stood formerly on raised ground at the back, as if watching over the entire occasion.

The boat was pushed gently away, the current embracing it to lull it towards the waterfall. Harmony felt herself shaking, breaking apart from the very inside, her heart throbbing with pain. None of her mother's things would have been sent away, if Harmony had had her way. She wouldn't have let them be taken. Then, when the boat was out far enough, their uncle Arnbjorn, lifted his bow and fired a flaming arrow. It sailed through the air like a shooting star and, upon piercing the wood, the boat erupted into spectacular flames of orange, red and yellow. Harmony's breath hitched in her throat.

A tall, silent figure drew up alongside them, standing a couple of metres away, and he watched the flames with an expression like ice. Clad in his armour, his long emerald cape billowed gently behind him. Turning her head by a fraction, Harmony recognised him. Strangely, especially given who he was, he was a rather close friend of the Lockehart family, more specifically of their most recently deceased. He had known her long before her husband had, and long before she had birthed any children for another man. His solemn promise now lay in her legacy.

The boat reached the waterfall, and it was gone.

For a moment, Harmony lost her will power and broke forward a step, and the chill of the water around her ankles shocked her back to reality. Her mouth opened. No sound came out.

The tall figure looked to the girl, thinking of how, by a twist of fortune, she could have been his own.

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**Please let me know what you think!**

**All feedback is welcome (craved heavily ;)) aside from non-constructive criticism, and like I said, your input will be highly valued!**

**I know there is a lot of mystery and it is intended. If there is anything at all you don't understand then let me know and I can tell you if it's intended mystery or if I wasn't clear.**

**The more responses I get, the more quickly I will be able to whip up a new chapter. So, what did you think of: The attack on Midgard, the battle, the rewards of the Aesir to the mortals, the society created for/by the mortals in Asgard, the patron gods, the death of Harmony's mother, the introduction to the Lockehart family, and who is the mysterious figure? And who do you think is the Lockehart's patron deity?**

**You're all amazing, love and hugs! xxx**


	2. Chapter 2: The Patron and the Maiden

**Thank you for reading! Please review, your input is highly valued!**

* * *

_Two years later_

Standing before a long mirror, Harmony straightened out the skirts of the pale blue dress she was clad in. She hadn't grown much in the last two years, barely at all, and in some ways the longer length of her chestnut hair made her seem even shorter. Things were a little more cramped in the manner house with the whole family but it was easier on them there, they were more connected to everything.

Harmony could not tell it herself, seeing her own face every day, but her features had matured a little and she was told more and more frequently that she was the image of her mother. She thought about her often. Still haunted, Harmony consoled herself by knowing her mother would have wanted her to be happy and live to the full.

Three days before, she and Kistain had turned sixteen. By tradition, the new adult family members were introduced to their patron god. They would spend a day together to become acquainted. But in the case of twins, the eldest would spend their birthday with their patron, the youngest a few days later. Being the younger of the two, Harmony had eagerly waited until her nerves had been frazzled by excitement and anxiety. She wanted to look perfect, to be perfect.

Her lessons as a lady must had to be remembered. A good impression was vital, or shame would be brought upon her and her side of the family. Since she was fourteen, the stepping stones across her river of life had been pulled under, but for some reason this day felt like they were being pulled up to the surface again, a new pathway forward for her somehow. Since then, she hadn't let herself hope for anything more than tiny little things like a new dress or the chance to visit the country house.

Today, at last, was her day.

Harmony wove a few white flowers into her mass of chestnut curls, fingers adept after such a long time doing the same for her younger sisters whenever they asked. Adjusting her sleeves, she checked her appearance a final time before carrying herself with all the trained graces of a young lady to the living room to wait until she was summoned. Finding that she was alone, Harmony relaxed her posture with a breath of relief, then absentmindedly wound up the ornate music box on the table behind one of the long sofas. The twinkling music filled the room delicately, the sound of a childhood.

Not able to bring herself to sit down, Harmony went to the window, peering closely like a watchman, as though she might see her patron coming up to the house, despite knowing they'd arrived before she'd even dressed herself. From that window, the young woman could see people on the streets, oblivious to her and her day. Not that it mattered though. It was satisfying enough to look at as many people and know they'd had a life full of experiences Harmony might not even be able to imagine.

Watching them distracted her from the quiet she was unused to, and the knee-shaking nerves that had addled her for days. Someone from the street caught her eye, causing her to quickly look away shyly, not wishing them to think she had been rudely staring. A knock came at the drawing room door, startling the maiden, who instantly knew who it was. Eased with confidence, Harmony's cousin, Ygra pushed open the door with her palm so that it swung back on its hinges.

"They're ready for you," she said in her naturally husky voice.

Ygra kept the door open as Harmony walked from the room, and followed at the younger woman's flank on their way to the council chamber. They shared the signature red chestnut hair that embodied the true Lockehart bloodline. But while Ygra was fierce and tough, Harmony inherited the opposite, a quiet strength that lay in a humble and tender heart.

It took considerable effort to keep herself steady as she made her way to the council chambers. The impression she wanted to give was that she was pleasant, light-hearted and charming, instead of a tiny mouse who'd been caught in the eyes of a cat. She could not let her nerves ruin it. Some found it endearing when one was a little shy and timid, especially in a mortal – she hoped her patron may have been one of those people – and she did not wish to spend countless effort on hiding her shyness, who she was, but nor did she want it to overtake her, making her awkward and clumsy.

On approaching the chamber doors, Ygra overtook the young doe to rap her knuckles on the door. Harmony drew in a deep breath to subdue her anxieties, hoping she had a convincing calm, light face worn in place. Seemingly by themselves, the twin doors opened slowly. Harmony could have sworn her knees were shaking under her skirts. She stepped into the room alone, gazing upon her patron god truly in person for the first time.

Three of her closest official family members sat at the council table – her father, her mother's brother, Arnbjorn, and her mother's older sister, Kathryn. Compared to the god sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, they almost looked like polite children waiting for their supper. And it was all Harmony's effort not to gasp in awe at the god before her.

He was enormous, a giant of a man. Even sitting, he towered above the mortals at the table, dominating the room with his intimidating broad structure. But his eyes and smile were sincere, if not unnerving at the same time.

Harmony's father, Halvar, was the first to rise from his seat, an affectionate smile on his face as he came forward and embraced his eldest daughter. Harmony returned the embrace in the most lady-like way that she could possibly manage. She heard the unmistakable steps of her patron as he too rose to greet his newest mortal for the first time. As her father pulled away, Harmony had to steel herself from flinching at the immense sight of the god, now so close, and did her best to maintain her gentle, genuine smile.

Harmony bowed in a perfect curtsy, "Your grace," her voice was too breathless to her own ears.

Her eyes flickered up to her patron as she straightened her legs. The urge to nervously fiddle with her skirts was frustrating, awakening an impatient tingle in her fingers.

"Your reputation precedes you," the god told her, voice deep and powerful like the thunder he wielded.

The comment was followed by his own rich chuckle as a worried blush erupted in Harmony's cheeks. She had a reputation already?

"You are indeed your mother's double," he explained, and then extended his arm to take hold of her delicate hand and brush his lips against her knuckles.

Harmony looked deep into his sapphire eyes for just a moment before her aunt Kathryn interrupted, "Shall we proceed?" she asked with a smile, similar to Harmony's.

Upon arriving, the sight of a goblet upon the table had not gone unmissed, nor the pommel of the dagger. As well as spending the day with the family patron, the newest adult family member and the god would take an oath and become bound together.

Kathryn cupped the goblet in both her hands and came to stand adjacent to them both, Arnbjorn at her flank, while Halvar went to retrieve the blade, and Harmony stood nearly shaking. Don't let the fear show, she told herself. To the eyes of mortals, she seemed calm enough, but the god, who knew every single tell-tale sign of fear, and fear in concealment, knew just how frightened she really was. He wouldn't have judged her badly for showing it, she was such a little, fragile-looking young woman, though he gave her credit for having enough discipline to hide it.

Halvar stood the other side, opposite Kathryn with the ceremonial dagger; it was crafted to have a different metal for each of the edges, one immensely stronger than the other. The god offered his large hand without a word. Halvar spun the dagger so the right side of the blade lay against the Asgardian's flesh for a moment before slicing a shallow wound in the centre of his palm. Harmony watched in amazement as the god showed no signs of pain or even discomfort, like he'd not even felt it. Kathryn extended the goblet, which Harmony saw contained clear liquid that would have been easily mistaken for water, and Halvar tapped on the blade, coaxing a few drops of the god's blood to fall into the liquid, before it disappeared without a trace.

"Give me your hand, darling," Halvar said to his daughter, "This will only hurt a bit."

Harmony bit her lip without thinking, lifting her small hand. She was mildly comforted as her father's familiar hand cupped hers, turning the blade over his other hand. The slice was quick and shallow, still managing to elicit a small gasping hiss from the young mortal. The wound's burn lingered. A few drops of her blood fell and vanished in the goblet.

Kathryn offered the goblet to the god. He grasped it in one immense hand and took a generous sip before offering it to the mortal opposite him. With both hands, Harmony cupped the significantly heavy object and brought it to her lips, nervous and self-conscious as she swallowed a mouthful of the tasteless solution. Her father took the goblet from her hands, and her patron held up his palm. Swallowing again, Harmony tried to wet her throat before she spoke, raising her own hand to press her palm against the god's, their wounds meeting. He utterly dwarfed her in comparison.

"I," she began softly, "Harmonia Arianna Lockehart, offer myself to my patron; to obey, honour and serve from now until my final breath. I shall always be loyal and devoted, and accept any consequences if I should forsake my promise."

"I," the god rumbled, "Thor Odinson, bestow my favour upon you; to protect, guide, and rule from now until my final breath. I shall be fair and just, and honour you in return. May I fail to grip Mjolnir should I forsake my promise."

And it was done.

A strange shiver had run over Harmony's body and left behind a strange tingling sensation, but it was nothing unpleasant. She felt her father's arm wrap around her shoulder and a kiss in her temple. Arnbjorn was suddenly in front of her with a wrap of soft looking fabric to bind her bleeding hand with. And as she was bandaged, Harmony glanced at her patron's palm, amazed to see the minor wound already healing by itself, if not a tad envious of the ability.

Arnbjorn tied the final knot. "Thank you," Harmony said quietly.

"Your mother would have been proud of you," he told her.

Her father and uncle drew away from her as Thor stepped forward, ready to begin his day with her. Like a gentleman, he offered his arm and Harmony slipped her hand through, bringing it to gently rest on his forearm. They left the room with proud smiles behind them.

"Where do you wish to spend the day?" Thor asked her, momentarily catching her off guard by directly addressing her.

"Oh," Harmony's words stumbled over each other in the back of her throat. She swallowed and tried again, "Maybe somewhere quieter?"

"Perhaps the gardens?" her patron suggested.

With a bright smile, Harmony nodded eagerly. All her life she'd had a certain love of nature, a desire to be near to it as much as she could. She and Kistain had used to disappear for hours exploring the forests and country surrounding their rural home, and it was something they both looked back on nostalgically. Thor led her down the pathway that would take them most quickly to the extravagant palace gardens. The streets were busy, bustling with people of all kinds, and Harmony felt her belly tighten with tiny pangs of anxiety in the crowded scene. She kept herself close to Thor's side, curling her delicate fingers around his sleeve and arm a bit more, letting him walk a little in front of her so he could carve the way for them.

He felt the little young woman draw nearer to him. It pleased him; she seemed to trust him enough to keep her safe and saw him as the figure of protection he had sworn to be for her. It was obvious enough why she had wanted to spend their time in a more secluded environment. The people in the streets cleared way for their future king, so the pair were not held up by the crowds.

"I brought your mother here when she was your age," Thor told Harmony as they stepped into the lavish gardens. "I remember it well. She was very much like you are now."

"She never told me," Harmony replied quietly. They walked slowly, leisurely, now that there was no rush and they were all but alone. "But it seems like something she would have liked," the girl added sadly.

"She was a remarkable woman. It was cruel for her to be taken so soon from you all, you must miss her," there was an unmistakably soothing tone in the god's voice, a pillar to fall back against, to be caught by.

Harmony took a deep breath, recollecting herself before speaking, "Yes, all the time. I try not to think of it too much though; I fear what would happen if I did."

"You are a brave young woman," Thor complimented, coaxing a bashful smile from her, "Very few would have taken the responsibilities that you have."

"I don't feel brave much of the time," Harmony admitted with a shrug.

Part of her was glad for the extensive height difference between them, giving her a perfect excuse to keep her eyes away from his avid gaze. Speaking of such things caught her off her guard. She rarely opened up about it, it frightened her what she might find in the unvisited parts of her mind. Besides most of her time was spent doing, not thinking. What peace she seldom received was never long-lasting. And never once had she felt as though she was in control or brave enough to take on anything that came her; such delusions of fearlessness and boldness were nothing but pointless.

"Does your mother's memory haunt you?" Thor asked her.

With a small nod, she answered, "Yes. It is made worse with the dreams I have. They bring everything back all over again."

"Have you not tried a sleeping draught?"

"It always slips my mind. When I wake, there is always something else that needs doing. I suppose I should though," she paused, gathering the courage to pry further about her mother's ghost, "Did you know her well?"

"Aye, I did, rather well," Thor answered, "But Loki knew her far better than I did, your mother was dear to him as well as I. She possessed an uncommonly kind and gentle heart."

Harmony didn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. A sense of closeness to her mother's memory surrounded her, as if she were standing right behind them, in the corner of her eye. "What was she like before she started a family?" she inquired with newfound curiosity.

"Alas, Loki would have far more stories to tell but I remember she was a fine bard, having in her possession one of the very few violins from Midgard. She danced and sung, and had talent with the bow," Thor listed, wracking through his memories, "She had a certain way with animals, particularly horses. Do you ride yourself?"

"Not if I can help it," Harmony said.

Taken aback, Thor turned to look down at her intently, eyebrows raised, "And why is that?"

"It's been insisted for a long time that I ride 'like a lady'," Harmony admitted with slight worry she might offend what he thought of the tradition.

But, to her relief, the huge god chuckled heartily, and when she remained silent, he prompted her, "Continue."

"I used to ride normally – like a man usually rides – but my aunt Kathryn insisted I learn to ride side-saddle. She was far more intent than my mother that I become a proper lady. I've not ridden properly in years," Harmony explained.

A sly gleam flickered across Thor's eyes like a tiny streak of lightning, "What if you could ride the way you used to?"

…

Two of Asgard's finest steeds galloped freely down the country road, hooves kicking up chunks of grass and dirt, snorting breaths with each lurch forward. The wind whooshed past them, an ongoing shouting whisper.

With her legs parted over the horse's wide back, the skirts of her dress hitched up, Harmony almost felt like her brother, shifting her weight back through her hips, seating her deep in the saddle. More like a passenger than a rider, she held the reins not too firmly, trusting the horse with the eased contact. Her small body was jolted with every bound, each breath snatched gaspingly.

From his significantly larger mount, Thor watched the astounded maiden, deciding that even riding like a man she looked like one of the sweetest young ladies he'd ever seen. Her lips were parted in an endearingly innocent way, panting each breath in time with their galloping strides. He could see the excitement and blissful sense of freedom on her flushed face, but also a strange sort of determination at the same time.

It seemed that she knew where she wanted to go, so Thor allowed her to urge her horse in front of his, while he became increasingly interested by this mortal's character, remembering her mother in the same way. Shy and delicate, with a whispering strength within, that drove her to make herself and others happy, even if it did mean defying convention that would limit her, however small.

When the horse below started to rein in their pace, Harmony gradually straightened her back, not willing to push the animal beyond its want. With the rush of wind no longer able to cool her, her face grew hot and her breaths laboured for a few moments. "I wish I could that whenever I wanted," Harmony panted, running a hand over her tangled chestnut curls.

Thor chuckled heartily, bringing his far larger horse to a slower pace, overtaking her in the process. He steered the horse around, almost circling Harmony as he came round to join her side again, "I feel the same as I lead my warriors into battle."

The smile on Harmony's face dropped. She hadn't even thought about that sort of thing, it'd never occurred to her. Her patron was Asgard's greatest warrior, how could she forget? It was close to incomprehensible that this man, so charming, friendly and liberating, was Asgard's finest killer, a figure to be respected and immensely feared. Given her timid nature, Harmony couldn't deny her shyness and nervousness around him, but she had never once given a thought to how afraid she could be of him and that maybe she should have been frightened of him, not just nervous. But then, how could she fear someone who allowed her such freedom and spoke so kindly to her?

"Battle upsets you?" Thor asked, watching her face fall.

"Does it please you?" Harmony countered with uncharacteristic boldness.

"That is not what I asked," he replied sternly.

Looking down, Harmony muttered, "Yes."

"I find that ironic in a way. Your ancestors earned their place here because of their prowess and valour in battle, and now you shun the mere thought. Strange is it not?" his lips gave a small quirk, "Would you wish to defend those you love if they were in danger?"

"Yes, of course I would," Harmony said without a thought. She paused, "But I would never want to kill someone, even if I had to; I'm not even sure if I could."

"In what way?"

"I don't think I could ever bring myself to murder another living creature. Nor would I know how to do it," the mortal admitted, almost ashamed.

"Did you never pursue in your mother's footsteps and take up the bow?" Thor looked at her closely, reading her face carefully. He saw his question had struck a nerve.

"I just couldn't," Harmony whispered in a weakened voice, "Not after," she broke off. "I can barely look at her violin."

"It's all right," his voice was suddenly soft and honey-warm, and Harmony jerked her head to look up at him. "You still love your mother dearly, you miss her, but you cannot let her ghost hold you back forever."

Then in silence, they continued to ride until reaching the Lockehart country house. Upon being asked, Harmony pointed out which was her bedroom window and which was the nursery, and she knew the god was now trying to distract her. His consideration for a mere human confounded her.

On their horses still, Harmony and Thor leisurely covered the small estate, falling in and out of conversation. Thor heard Harmony's stomach rumble and looked around; he steered them towards an age old fruit tree, reached up and plucked the finest looking piece and handed it to her. A dash of colour spread across her cheeks as she took it gratefully and started nibbling innocently.

The afternoon passed on. Thor told her a number of stories that would please her, making her smile and laugh or be struck silent with awe. He looked at her reactions closely, learning her a little more with each one, finding that she truly was, in herself, harmony. Never had a name been quite so fitting.

And when the first streaks of pink and orange lined the azure sky, it was time to return to the city.

"Ready?" Thor's eyes glinted as they stepped onto the long road.

Harmony smiled eagerly, her horse beneath her growing impatient. In one breath she let go. The air was stolen from her lungs again. Her body bowed, arms giving. Dirt and dust was kicked up behind them, the thundering of hooves shuddering through the very earth. It was a feeling Harmony could never remember, and now one she would never forget. She relished in every second. At the sight of the city, she knew her excitement would soon be snuffed out like a flickering candle.

Once they'd reached the city and dismounted their horses, instead of leading Harmony straight home, Thor walked her back to the gardens and sat her down on a marble bench, sitting close beside her. He could almost hear her brow furrowing.

"There is something I want you to do for me," he said.

"My lord?" Harmony questioned, anxious.

"I told you earlier that you shouldn't let your mother's ghost hold you back. I want you to embrace the things you have in common with her, pursue them if that is what you wish but you must pursue something. You are more than a replacement mother for your family; there must be things you desire for yourself. There is one more among the dead, and it is not you."

* * *

**Did we like? What did you think of Harmony grown up a little, the ritual, her relatives, the day with Thor?**

**And are there any preferences/suggestions on what you'd like Thor's/Harmony's/any other character's personality to be like?**

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	3. Chapter 3: Convention

**Apologies for the infrequent updates, things have been very busy!**

**I hope you enjoy and please review!**

* * *

From that day for the next seven months, those words never managed to leave her. They whispered themselves to her nearly every day, an echoing mantra that kept her going and picked her up when she fell. Part of her felt proud and fulfilled, following the wishes of her patron. He too, occupied her thoughts. They hadn't been alone together since her official coming of age; she had sat in the council chambers at the will of her uncle, Arnbjorn, in order to learn and gain experience in the workings of the family business and affairs. She had sat quietly, listening to the words of others, but her eyes were often on her patron. Over the months, she took in his features carefully every time she saw him, consciously trying to learn how he showed his emotions. The fascination she had with him bewildered her.

A week after her day with Thor, Arnbjorn had come to her and told her that he had found a violin teacher for her – a profession that was minuscule in size, with only a tiny handful knowing how to handle the Midgardian instrument. The teacher had introduced himself as Tiro, and he too had taught her mother when she was younger. Age had bypassed him. The first thing Harmony had learned from him was that he despised playing without movement. Music was like a whole other life-force in the body. If it didn't create any movement then it was not true music.

Harmony practised religiously. Her nimble fingers learned stamina and speed, lean, sleek muscles laid delicately over her legs and torso. Tiro taught her that her limbs were to become like water when she played, elegant like a young cat, peaceful like a doe, silent as she moved. Rather often her siblings would sit and watch her, but at times she could barely notice them, only to then jump in surprise when she slipped back into reality. Music was her release from everything she had needed to face up to after that terrible day. Their father was hardly around anymore, working himself to breaking point for his children, and Harmony hadn't actually found time to ask him what it was he did. That was how little she saw him. He wasn't even at the council meetings; Arnbjorn and Kathryn handled that for the most part.

Harmony saw now that her patron had given her the push that she had so desperately needed, lifting her that first step so she climb the rest of the way herself and feel the sun on her face again. She felt like she owed him everything. It all seemed to have changed for the better…

Until that one day.

Harmony knew it wouldn't ever fade from her memory: she was in the middle of a lesson with Tiro and the doors of the dance and music room had swung open, absent a knock, and Tiro was overcome with sudden anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, inwardly flinching as Harmony's beautiful music came to an untimely halt.

The intruder, an errand boy for the Lockehart family, took a pant before replying, "Harmony has been urgently summoned to the council chambers, please forgive the interruption."

Tiro immediately softened, and looked to his timid student. She'd lowered her violin to her side, eyes startled and curious with her mind racing behind them. Instinctively, she looked to Tiro first and then back to the errand boy.

"I'm afraid it cannot wait," the boy prompted.

Tiro reached for Harmony's violin, "I'll take that," he said, voice soft.

Harmony uncurled her fingers from the instrument as delicately as though it were made of stain glass, almost reluctantly, and she looked at him again, almost for reassurance in a way. "Go on," Tiro nodded, the ghost of gentle smile on his lips that shone through his eyes more than anywhere else.

Harmony trotted after the errand boy, waiting until they were in the quiet corridors before she spoke in a rushed whisper, "Did they say what it was about?"

"No, my lady," the boy replied.

"Don't call me that, please," Harmony said, her voice like soft silk. The slightest flush appeared on her cheeks. "I'm hardly a lady, and I'm certainly not better than you."

"Are you sure?" the lad asked nervously, the formal term of address on the tip of his tongue; it didn't feel right not to say it.

"Perfectly," Harmony assured him, "I wouldn't have been given a name if people were just going to use blank titles. What's your name?"

"Fari," he answered.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't know sooner," Harmony said as they drew closer to the council chambers, honest in her words but anxious in her mind about what Fari was leading her to.

She whispered her thanks to him as he opened the doors for her, and walked in alone. The first thing she noticed was that only three people were present at the table – usually there were perhaps a dozen people, depending on the matter. But looking back at her were her aunt and uncle, Kathryn and Arnbjorn, and Thor.

Now she was even more nervous. It felt like there was an impending reprimand waiting for her as she timidly stepped towards the table, searching the faces of her mother's siblings with sharp eyes. She came to a stop, "Where is everyone?" she asked quietly.

"There is a delicate matter at hand," Kathryn told her, "We didn't think you would appreciate a large audience."

That set her nerves on edge. So this was about _her?_

Harmony couldn't tell but the blood drained from her face, jerking her head in tiny movements between her aunt and uncle, but avoiding Thor. The added shyness from looking his way was the last thing she needed.

"What is it? Is it dad?" she whispered quickly.

"No, child, your father is well," Thor answered unexpectedly. The baritone rumble of his voice sent shivers through her bones

"Where is he?" Harmony looked to Kathryn.

"He cannot be here, he doesn't have the time on his hands. But, that is part of the reason why you were summoned," Kathryn said.

The three looked at the young Lockehart with pity; the poor girl looked so frightened.

Arnbjorn got to his feet, moving around the table to stand at Harmony's side, so that maybe she wouldn't feel like a child that was being scolded by angry elders. Harmony felt sick in her chest and her stomach, beneath her, her knees shook, her heart so fast that it didn't even feel like it was beating at all.

"We've discussed this for a while – your father and the three of us – and it is his wish," Arnbjorn paused, "for you to be married."

She hadn't heard right.

He didn't just say…did he?

No, he couldn't have done. Surely…

Harmony was speechless, the skin on her face like paper, barely able to hold herself steady. Dozens upon dozens of replies tried to force themselves up her throat all at the same time, so that they all got stuck and she found herself rendered speechless. The first, and only thing she could do, was shake her head rapidly from side to side.

"Now, I know it is sudden and unexpected but we think it'd be the best thing for you," Arnbjorn went on, "Your father struggles terribly and has done ever since Ida…we give what help we can but it's still not enough. There are just so many of you. And you will be released of a number of your burdens."

"What?" Harmony choked out, mind racing, "I'll do anything, I'll work until my bones break if I have to! I, I don't want to be married!"

"Harmony," her uncle cut across carefully, "this is the best option to take –"

"To be sold off like a piece of meat?!" Harmony cried, close to hyperventilating. "I won't. I won't do it."

"Harmony," Thor interrupted, causing her to flinch, and for the first time she looked at him. "I will not have such insolence from one of my own. This is the will of your family, and myself. You will do as you are bid, for your own good."

"I don't want my life to be over!" Harmony protested, but defeat was already lingering in her voice.

"What, pray tell, do you want then?" Thor interlocked his long fingers with a slight tilt in his head.

"Choice," Harmony retorted instantly. "I don't want things decided for me. I want to make my own choices and my own mistakes because that's the way you go through life. And how can I leave here? I don't want to leave everyone behind." She bit her lip to stop herself from weeping, and then found she'd been gripping Arnbjorn's arm to keep her frail body steady.

"This is a marriage we have arranged, not your execution," Thor said firmly. "Do not be a child and refuse to acknowledge the opportunities that will still be open for you, not to mention new ones once you are married. You will cared and provided for, as will the rest of your family." He saw her will was about to break and stepped in quickly, turning to Kathryn, "Would you give us a moment alone please, Kathryn?"

"Of course, my lord," the woman nodded respectively and stood. Harmony was forced to slacken her grip on Arnbjorn's arm as he followed his sister from the council chamber.

The young mortal looked nervously down at her feet, fiddling with the hem of her short tunic that she'd worn to dance in.

"Is there no other way?" she near whimpered as the door closed. Her doe brown eyes implored with such innocence and desperation that Thor almost considered her plea.

"No other way that would solve the problems your father and family faces," Thor replied, his voice calm and steady now.

Harmony lifted a hand to her face, half hiding behind it, "Did no one think to tell me? This was just decided without me?"

"It was your father's verdict that it was done in such a way."

"You could have stopped him," Harmony's hand dropped to her side limply.

"He knows you better than I, I respected his judgement," Thor said, able to see the merging on anger on her paled features. He could understand her strife, and he could not deny his admiration for her passion and her longing to live her life to the full and the way she wanted to. It was he who encouraged her to do so, and now he was condemning her to a fate she had not chosen herself.

"But I don't want to be married, not yet. I want to marry for love," she had to admit she almost felt childish saying that, but it was true, "not money and convenience."

"Have you ever been in love before, little one?" Thor leaned back in his seat, looking her up and down.

"No," Harmony muttered shyly.

"Then you are lucky to have not had a taste of what you have missed."

"Don't say that!" she blurted out.

Thor raised his eyebrows, his face hardening into a glare, the gentleness suddenly gone from his sapphire orbs. "I beg your pardon?"

Harmony opened her mouth but her words failed her; she looked down at her feet again, submissively hunching her shoulders forward a little.

"I will not have such insolence," the god repeated slowly.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Harmony stumbled weakly over her words as the last of her resolve collapsed and her tears broke their dam. She instantly lowered her head, finding herself terrified of what her patron would think of her for allowing her vulnerability to show so clearly and openly.

But when she lifted her head a moment later, Thor was no longer sat in his grand seat; instead he was moving around the table, hulking and beautiful. Harmony froze as he was suddenly upon her. By the nine, he was so tall! Looking up at him then, through the web of tears, Harmony could have believed the top of his head graced the sky. He was close, too close for convention, much too close.

"What –" she began in a squeak.

"Quiet," Thor whispered, naturally husky.

Then suddenly his arms were around her. She was pulled flush against his body, encased his in hold. She felt utterly miniscule in comparison to the blond haired giant who'd secured her in a warm cage of protection. He was close to crushing her with his unfathomable strength, but it made her feel safe. Nothing could hurt her when he had her, and she was near certain that that was how Thor wanted her to feel.

The blossoming curves of Harmony's body moulded into his own unyielding form. Her arms were trapped helplessly between them, the side of her cheek nestled against his chest. Inhaling a shuddering breath, Harmony attempted to regain control of her emotions. She closed her eyes and made herself focus on the god's arms that nearly consumed her, swallowing heavily.

"Please," the girl found herself whispering into her patron's chest, "please, don't."

"Hush, relax," Thor murmured, "Just breathe, calm yourself."

Harmony opened her eyes and wriggled herself to look up at him, "But you can stop it. You can make them," she pleaded.

"It is done," Thor replied solemnly, ready to receive the maiden's tears again.

* * *

News of Harmony's sudden betrothal spread quickly among the mortal families and their patrons. It was practically unheard of for a maiden of sixteen years old to be married off, even in times of crisis.

Harmony had shut herself away, only allowing Kistain and Tiro to see her, not able to face anyone else. She began to sleep and eat unhealthily, abnormally, confined to her chambers. If they were fortunate, Tiro or Kistain could coax her to eat a meal in a day, often rousing her from a deep, numb sleep when they came to her.

The wedding dawned rapidly.

Tiro managed to persuade Harmony to sit by the window as much as possible, so that she did not look so gaunt when she was forced down the aisle. Nothing but miserable numbness hung over the girl's heart, a sense of bleak hopelessness that bore no light. Despite best efforts, Harmony's body had shred itself of a few healthy pounds of weight on her already lithe body, leaving her skeletal in places like her wrists and ribs.

On the eve of the wedding, in Asgard's palace, an angered Loki stormed to Thor's chambers, with a sincere hope that he was alone that night…

As expected, Thor did not appreciate the sudden interruption but Loki had beat him to it.

"You are not going through with this, are you?" Loki challenged, uncharacteristically flustered and agitated.

"Going through with what?" Thor forced out in the calmest voice he could manage.

"Marrying the Lockehart girl into another family," the younger prince snapped, "I made a promise."

"As did I," Thor retorted, voice low, eyes firm. "Harmony is not yours, nor were _any_ of them."

Loki bristled dangerously. As if Thor was intimidated…

Sapphire clashed with emerald, blazing and bright.

"She is a no more than a child," Loki hissed vehemently. "Ida would have –"

"Ida is gone," Thor nearly boomed. "And the girl's wedding is no more than a consequence of that. Insolence from her, I can understand; you are right, she is a child. But you," he paced angrily, "what excuse do you have for acting like a beaten whelp?"

Despite his angered tone, Thor found himself troubled at his brother's demeanour. He could not recall a time when he had seen the Trickster so torn, so _genuine._

Loki side-stepped the insult, "I would have thought that you, with all your goodness and honour," his voice was mocking, patronizing, "would have spared her this fate. And what shall your mortals think of _you_ now? Thor: the condemner of young maidens to fates which they would give anything to avoid; the inflictor of misery upon children."

"Enough!" Thor barked, striding forward and seizing Loki by the shoulders. "For the love of the Nine, grow up! You are still torn by grief, and trust me when I say I hope you make a speedy recovery for I don't think I can stand this petulance much longer. This was not an idea of mine."

"Do not play the fool, you know you could have prevented it," Loki fought his way out of Thor's grasp, only freeing himself since Thor allowed him to.

"It is done," Thor turned away, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. "What authority do you have here?" his fists clenched. Loki could be so infuriating! "Your words and promises meant nothing – how could they? A promise from the God of Lies? Harmony is not yours. She will never be yours."

"I thought better of you, _brother_," Loki hissed out, and Thor rolled his eyes at the further show of the morality ploy. "I expected you, of all people, to honour the dying wish of one of your own that would not include marrying off her daughter like a common harlot!"

Thor sighed exasperatedly, "How many times must I say before you understand? Ida was mine, Harmony is mine; they're both my own. Harmony's marriage is to honour the promise we both made. She may not see it now but it'll be better for her this way."

Loki knew there was no more to be done, and it infuriated him. Like with so many things, Thor had the upper hand in power. There was no way he could best his older brother in the matter of their mortal families; Loki was helpless. There was nothing to stop Harmony's wedding.

The following morning, Harmony was roused by a trio of maidservants for the Lockehart house and it numbly occurred to her that it was customary to only be prepared by other women before a wedding. The house didn't have many servants, just a few to help with the family; the ladies of highest respect often had handmaidens, who were even sometimes younger girls of the family. There were also women who made up half of the family's teachers and advisors.

In her sleepy haze, Harmony recognised the handmaidens of her mother and Aunt Kathryn. There was another, younger girl whom Harmony didn't recognise, and she wished desperately that the girl didn't have to see her in such a sorry state. She wished she could have smiled at her, made small talk with her, learn what little she could about her in the time they had together. But no such energy or vitality would flow into her heart and body.

The women actually had to help Harmony from her bed, her form so weak that it took her a while to find her strength in her coltish limbs.

She expected to be engaged in girlish chatter but the women were silent as they prepared her. They washed her skin in water tinted with sweet-smelling odours and smooth soaps before cleaning her hair with perfumed lotions. One woman worked her wet hair into neat, tight ringlets so that it wouldn't explode into wild curls when it dried. Another, the youngest woman, worked at painting her lips a gentle, natural pink and adding a slight rosy tint to her cheeks. The third woman readied her dress.

First, Harmony was clad in a light silky white undergarment, numb and dulled as the women worked her limbs like puppet masters. Then she was helped into the dress itself. It was white, as expected, but had woven in a few pale blue patterns, mostly around the neck line, which was actually lower than Harmony would have expected, leaving her collar and upper chest exposed. The bodice was a corset, laced up at the back but had decorative lacing. It was snug, emphasising Harmony's tiny size but exaggerating her curves, but it was not so tight that it was uncomfortable. The long sleeves were feather-light, almost see-through as they hung off Harmony's wiry arms. A thin layer of fabric, almost see through as well, hung across the first half of the skirt, the satin material beneath pooling like liquid moonlight around Harmony's feet at the sides and behind her.

Now that her hair was dry, the woman who'd been her mother's handmaiden now wove white flowers into her curls, portraying and emphasizing her innocence in every way possible. The other two women dabbed her neck, wrists and collar in a delightful perfume, most likely the scent of a flower. Then at last, Harmony stepped into a white pair of pumps, and the image was complete. She couldn't deny that they'd made her beautiful but that only saddened her more.

The three women led her outside, where Harmony found that a carriage was awaiting her. It would take her to the wedding hall, the youngest maid had told her, and that all her family were already there. As if working by clockwork, Harmony climbed into the carriage, alone. She sat in numb silence, her soft body being jolted around more than she would have liked when all she wanted was silence and stillness. Her heart beat with nothing, until the carriage slowed to a halt. All Harmony knew was ice cold fear and dread.

The carriage driver leapt down to open the door for her and offered his hand to help her out politely. When Harmony took his hand, it was not the gentle clasp of a lady, but a frightened child's cling. The maiden felt faint as she stepped out into the open air, too frightened to smile at the waving, adoring families of the Lockehart clan who occupied the space outside the hall, her actually family inside.

Harmony thought she was going to pass out, only then she saw her patron striding through the hall's open doors to meet her. Unlike on Midgard, it was the patron who gave the bride away, not their father, and the patron of the groom stood by them during the ceremony. The sight of the god made Harmony shiver all over, and how she longed to be locked up in his embrace once more!

"My lord," she forced in a timid whisper.

Thor caught her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing them over her knuckles in a chaste kiss, before turning his great body and offering his arm to her. Harmony held on with all her might, terrified of collapsing, so caught up in the web of her own emotions that she could barely see the smiling, cheering people that surrounded her. She would have smiled back at them shyly, sweetly, with an adorable blush on her cheeks, but not this time.

Thor walked her to another set of closed doors, where her bleak future awaited, and stopped. He looked down at her, able to see and feel her shaking. "Are you ready, little one?"

"No," she whispered, petrified.

Harmony turned her own head, looking straight into the god's eyes, "Help me."

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**Thank you for reading, and please review!**

**What did you think of: Harmony's musical talent, Tiro, the arranged marriage, Loki's curious reaction ;), the relationship between a human and their patron, and the preparation of the wedding?**

**This is the link to Harmony's wedding dress in case anyone is curious: **

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**Also, who do you think should be the patron of the family Harmony will be married into? Please tell me what you think!**

**Love and hugs for all! xxx**


	4. Chapter 4: Consequence

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The wedding ceremony resigned itself to nothing more than a painful, blurry memory in Harmony's mind, so that she could almost believe that it was happening to someone else. She'd stood straight, like a young lady should, and her voice soft as she'd uttered the words that had been forced into her mouth. A tiny part of her had tried to be optimistic; her new husband and his family belonged to Baldr, the God of Light and Innocence. Arguably, that deity fitted her better, personally, than her maiden patron.

Harmony, now sat at the long banquet table, finally awoke from the dreaming haze she'd fallen into from the moment she'd taken the first step down the aisle, and her new husband, Wilhelm, was sat beside her. While he could not be described as a handsome man, he had a kind face and intelligent grey eyes that held a promise of consideration and understanding. By estimation, he seemed about a decade and a half her elder, and it seemed odd then but in perspective it was hardly out of the ordinary, especially with the extended lifespans of the Asgardian mortals. Harmony's uncle Arnbjorn was twenty-five years the elder of his partner and it went completely unnoticed.

The wedded couple weren't sat at the centre of the long table; their patrons were, and Wilhelm sat on Baldr's left with Harmony next to him, since she was the one moving from one family to another. She would have much rather been sat nearer to Thor, or someone from her family. Sat where she was, she felt alone and vulnerable, picking absentmindedly at her food. Despite its delectable taste, she could not bring herself to stomach more than a few mouthfuls at a time. Keeping her eyes down, Harmony did her best to avoid all contact possible, wanting nothing more to be taken to her new residence and fall into a bed so that she could let sleep claim her.

Only then it hit her.

Oh gods, the bedding ceremony…

Before she could come to her senses, Harmony was downing her goblet of wine, which she had only sipped once or twice throughout the meal.

"Careful," Wilhelm whispered next to her, "you don't want to make yourself sick."

On one hand, Harmony was grateful for his concern for her, but her panic-stricken state fired up her defences. He could never contemplate what was going through her head, what she was being forced into, so, Harmony took another gulp of her wine before setting her goblet heavily down on the table. With her eyes fixed straight down, Harmony didn't notice Thor lean forward slightly so he could see her. Regardless of all his previous words and warnings, the herculean god only felt pity for the girl, and he had already promised himself that if she was still unsettled and unhappy after two years, he would have the marriage annulled and bring her back into his care.

"I know how you feel," Wilhelm told her in a murmur.

"I highly doubt that," Harmony replied in a monotone mumble, with a sad tilt of her head.

Hearing her husband sigh next to her, she turned her head a fraction towards him, but still she didn't look at him.

"You're right. I don't know how you feel; you don't know how I feel either. I am doing my duty as much as you are. We should at least try to make the best of it before we resign ourselves to misery," the words themselves seemed a little harsh but his tone, gentle and advisory, didn't match.

In her rational mind, Harmony knew he was right, however, in her petulant heart she just wanted to down another goblet of wine to help numb her soul for that night. She tried to eat a little more to balance her slow intoxication. When her goblet was re-filled, she didn't wait to take another gulp, deciding she wasn't yet detached fully from her emotions.

"Do you always drink so much?" she heard her husband ask, concerned.

"Only when I have to," Harmony had only drunk so much once in her life before, after the death of her mother. She'd been defeated so had resorted to detaching herself for a day or two before feeling ready to take on the fight to her grief. Other than that, she drank very moderately with perhaps a cup or two at the occasional event, and more often than not it was mixed with water. Not tonight though.

The only problem was, it wasn't having as much affect as Harmony wanted; she felt little difference to how she was at the start of the meal, guessing it was her nervous dread that was keeping the brunt of the intoxication at bay. Nothing had lifted her spirits, or been able to kindle her efforts to adopt her usual behaviour of a polite, courteous young lady, and she thought bitterly how things would have been different if she was sat at a wedding with a husband she'd chosen herself. She would have sat close to him, as near as their two chairs would have allowed, and they would have shared food and quiet words between themselves; she would have smiled at anyone who caught her eye and make her best effort to strike up a conversation with as many people as she could, maybe even with her new husband's patron. All that was just a dream now, nothing more, a lost fantasy, an illusion.

As the banquet went on, people began to move about, changing seats to talk to new people. At the first chance, Kistain slipped into the seat next to his twin, who was still looking down over the table at the floor. "You do know people can see you," he whispered, "Brides are supposed to be happy, at least mildly content."

"Shut it," Harmony growled under her breath, and Kistain physically jerked back. She couldn't find a scrap of effort to attempt to explain anything to him; he was a fool if he didn't know it by then.

"Mo, come on," he tried coaxing her, far more cautious in his approach.

"I said, shut it," she cut him off, not once looking at him.

More than anything, Kistain felt a blood-chilling worry. This was not his sister. She wasn't ever so aggressive, never even remotely so. Even when their mother had been taken from them and they'd intoxicated themselves into oblivion, she'd been airy and distant but never aggressive. He didn't know how to take her this way.

"I'll write to you every day, I promise," Kistain attempted timidly.

"I know," Harmony replied, softly sighing as she leaned back in her chair a little.

"And we'll come and see you all the time," he persisted, thinking of all the promises he'd already made that might help to lift her spirits, but when Harmony didn't answer he knew it was pretty much hopeless.

In her mind she answered, but her body was numb. Even thinking exhausted her. Knowing there was nothing more he could say, Kistain took his sister's hand and held tight. After a minute or two, Harmony forced herself to look properly up and around. The guests were chatting amongst themselves, fortunately not paying attention to her, and she found herself searching for her father with growing resentment in her gut. She kept an eye out for other close family members, guessing he'd be with or close by to them. When her prying orbs found him, she was ready to glare daggers, only to find that the man had his head in his hands; Arnbjorn sat beside him, seeming as though he was trying to console his brother-in-law somehow. Harmony then looked away, suddenly uninterested. She just wanted the banquet to be over.

A few smiles had to be forced, and not one of them reached her eyes. When people tried to make conversation with her, words were spoken with a dull underlying monotone, which prompted them to hurry along with whatever they had to say and leave her alone again. Harmony stood up, pushing her chair back as she rose, and her feet carried her to the door, out in the open air. It was chilly, with dusk now falling. Darkness settled over buildings and trees. The young bride was sobered a little, leaning back against the wall, taking in one deep breath after the other. She looked up and around when she was a little steadier, her senses coming back to her piece by piece.

She could have run, she supposed. Not that she would have done. There wasn't a scenario in which that could end with any degree of success.

Breath by breath, the dizziness that had come over her when she'd hurriedly crossed the hall began to ebb away and her head stopped spinning. Thinking hurt; Harmony sighed wearily, closing her eyes. Her body slumped against the wall, the will draining out of her. Through the sound of chatter, music and laughter, a heavy set of footsteps approached. Dreary, Harmony lifted her head.

Seeing who it was, she let her neck go limp again.

"You can't stay out here forever," Thor said, a gentle rumble behind his words. Harmony, too tired to answer, just glanced at him momentarily to show she'd heard. "If you were thinking of running," he stopped when the girl raised her head again, clearly offended but still without the will to vocalise anything.

Her dulled brown orbs bored into his for longer that time, no defiance or challenge, just emptiness, before drooping to the bland ground once more. Thor watched as she shut her eyes wearily, her head lolling to the side like she was losing consciousness.

"Your mother would have wanted you to face this bravely," she flinched on the inside at that deep rumbling voice.

"Mum doesn't want anything," Harmony answered with a slight slur, eyes opened. "Mum's dead."

Sighing sadly, Thor looked to the ground because he knew in his heart that there was nothing that could be said or done to nurture that broken spirit. "But you know that is how she raised you – to face things bravely and openly." It wouldn't stop him from trying though.

"Really?" Harmony scoffed. "She would have wanted this? You actually believe that?"

"If she were here now this would not be happening at all. But since she isn't, the consequences must be faced," the god moved a little closer, hoping he might have helped even a little to lift the heart of the forlorn girl.

"So," those cynical orbs narrowed, "because my mum died from something she had no control over, I get sold off like a pig and my life over, without any say whatsoever. Ah! The epitome of justice," she flashed a mirthless smile, throwing a glance up to the sky.

"Harmony," Thor began softly.

"What did I do? What did I do to get this? She had to be butchered by her own brother; she died like a dog on the street and she wasn't even human anymore. And this is what I get in return for losing her, for knowing _that_?" the maiden broke into sobs, deep and distant in her heart all at the same time, without shame.

Next thing she knew, those arms were around her, powerful and thickly muscled. Secured around her petite waist, they effortlessly pulled her forwards. He was as warm and strong as she remembered him, and like before, her arms were folded between their torsos. She welcomed him like a flower seeking the sun. It surprised her at how readily she accepted the intimacy between them, knowing that if her new husband or father had tried to embrace her she would have been rigid and cold. But not to Thor. The pads of his thumbs rolled in gentle circles over the fabric of her dress, firm yet soothing. Faintly, Harmony could hear him hushing her, whispering as she wept.

Pearly tears rolled over her reddened cheeks, seeping onto the warmed metal of the prince's attire. Harmony would remember it all in months and years to come; at her most broken, he was there. He was the one to catch her as she fell and set her right on her feet again, and in some ways he knew her better than most, still accepting her, still caring for her.

He puzzled her. They had not been alone together in almost eight months, spent less than a day in total with each other. How could she feel so close to someone she hardly knew? She wondered if it was his bond of patronage with her, she could reason nothing else.

"Do you do this for every girl that cries?" Harmony murmured against his chest, managing a sad smile that he could hear in her voice.

Thor's hand ran down her curls, "Only those who need it," he answered. "When you are vulnerable, you wish for contact, to be held."

"How do you know that?" the girl sniffled, not denying it.

"Your mother and aunt were the same, and their mother before them. I will do whatever I can for those who are mine," his arms constricted.

"But I'm not yours anymore," Harmony said, biting her lip as more tears pooled. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking up a sob.

"You will always be mine, if that is what you want," he curled his finger under her chin so he could see her face.

In the dusk light he could still see the redness of her cheeks and nose, the tiny reflection off the tears in her eyes. So innocent and helpless, yet still trying to fight and be brave. She looked him in the eye and nodded vigorously, pulling a genuine smile from the god's lips. With his thumb he wiped away fallen tears and carefully brushed the rims of her eyes, while Harmony sniffed and swallowed.

"That's better," he whispered. "It won't be as bad as it seems now, I promise you. Do you trust me?"

"Always."

* * *

Following the long drawn out farewell ceremony, which Harmony would have rather altogether avoided entirely, the newly wedded couple climbed into a lavishly decorated carriage, drawn by four white horses. Once inside, and the door had been shut with a 'click', Harmony couldn't bear to look back out again; her eyes remained fixed on the spot directly before her, a slight tilt in her neck, giving the impression she was under some sort of trance. She knew her family would be looking in, trying to catch her eye one last time. But her muscles had locked in place.

The jolting motion of the carriage as it set off seemed to flick an invisible switch and Harmony looked around the interior of the coach with her dulled eyes, no longer wound like a coil. She was automatically drawn to gazing out of the window at the dusk-kissed world. The aesthetic of the dark and night pleased her, comforted her. She had never quite understood why. But it made her somehow feel closer to the supernatural, the world of fantasy and the gothic. They had captured her attention consistently throughout her adolescence. She'd guessed by now that a word such as 'gothic' wasn't used on Asgard and had come from distant Midgard. That world might have understood her when she felt so broken apart and isolated in the Realm Eternal, where her blood was not born.

The twining branches of the barren trees seemed to slice through the canvas of the fading sun, fine cut points of black against dark blue merged with the last remnants of pink and orange. They reminded her of the strokes of a fine, delicate paintbrush, jagged and desolate yet so flawless in her eyes. In her mind she conjured images of creatures found in Midgardian myth and pictured them among those gloomily beautiful trees, longing to be among them.

"Are you well?" Wilhelm asked softly.

Harmony turned her head slowly, each feature of her face relaxed into the picture of sorrow, and she knew she no longer needed to speak an answer to him, not that she could have anyway; her throat and mouth remained in stubborn refusal to open and let words through. While looking at him, she examined his eyes. Grey, but the wrong kind of grey. Not the deep, clear slate grey that belonged to her father and siblings, Charmia, Arro and Rose; it was only other eye colour shared among those seven Lockehart children, the rest possessing orbs of rich, warm brown.

"They'll have tea and cakes for us back at the house. Have you had tea before? You know, from Midgard?" her husband asked futilely.

Harmony just looked at him like he was an idiot and had asked the silliest question. Scathingly mocking, her eyes gave a very clear reply – _of course I have, do you think I'm stupid?_

Sighing, the girl looked away, part of her ashamed of herself for her rudeness, another part too numb to acknowledge it at all. She would have smiled and nodded, already looking forward to it. That version of her had been shut away, as good as dead, leaving her with someone she didn't recognise – a hollow, cynical, sceptical shell.

"Harmony, please speak to me," Wilhelm pleaded, eyes imploring.

Jerking her head to face him, she snapped bitterly, "Of course, I'm living in every girl's dream."

"I am not your jailer."

"You may as well be. Do you think this is what I want?"

"Do you think that this is what _I _want?" he saw the maiden visibly flinch. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Now the spitting image of a scolded child, Harmony looked into her lap, folding her hands anxiously.

"But at least I will endeavour to be kind and good to you, for it is the least I can do. I would only hope that you extend to me the same courtesy," Wilhelm finished sharply, leaning back in his seat.

In her mind Harmony knew he was right, and agreed completely. Only her heart was not so rational, unready to let go of what it was feeling. Chewing her lip, Harmony angled her body slightly towards her window, her arms folded protectively over her torso. She would not lie about how she was feeling, she didn't think she could even if she wanted to. She wouldn't make something into what it wasn't; she was honest.

The remainder of the journey passed in awkward silence, Wilhelm brooding on one side and Harmony sulking on the other.

Wilhelm was gracious enough to help her out of the carriage when they reached his family country house, offering a gentlemanly hand which she took softly, holding her dress in her other hand. A small consolation. Harmony's eyes flickered up to the threshold of the country house and fell upon a greeting party of five people. The sudden realisation had her heart skipping a beat. Of course there would have been someone to greet the newly-wed couple, she shouldn't have been surprised. The rest of Wilhelm's family had been at the wedding feast, meaning that whoever had come to welcome them must have been from the common families that hadn't married into the nobility. It happened very commonly; it was one of the reason they accompanied the nine houses to Asgard.

Wilhelm dropped her hand, greeting each of his staff, but also his friends, one by one. He said their names in ritual as he either shook their hands or kissed their cheek in customary gesture. Harmony noted each one. Lydia, a handmaiden, she suspected; Edvard, another domestic companion; Kelda, a cook; Bersa, the stern mistress of the house; and Hunter, a stable, outdoor worker. He was the one who caught her eye, not having a Nordic name, much like herself. The Lockehart family, and some of the others, had fallen into the trend of sometimes picking Roman names for their children, like Harmony herself – perhaps it had historical significance, Harmony wasn't sure.

He seemed young, maybe a little older than her, dark haired and dark eyed. And something about him simply intrigued her, set him apart from the others. She would have felt unbelievably awkward just standing there, a stranger, if she had not been tiredly scouring over the lad's features to divert her shyness.

"…and this is Harmony," she suddenly felt Wilhelm's arm around her shoulder, and Harmony sharply angled her head to him.

Her lips pulled back in a forced, shy smile, as she silently wished it could have reached her eyes as well.

"Your evening tea is waiting for you," Edvard told them. He reminded her of the typical butler-figure she'd read about in old Midgardian stories.

"Thank you," Wilhelm nodded with a smile. "Now, let's all get inside. It's chilly out here."

Harmony followed silently after her husband, surprised when he reached back and offered her his hand, and she didn't hesitate to take it. The drawing room was large, filled with ornate furniture, designed to accommodate any large number of people, as was the same for all the country and manor houses, since the families had bloomed in their extensive lives. Edvard and Lydia politely guided them to the two armchairs nearest the roaring fire, making sure everything to the last detail was in order before departing, and just as they left, Bersa passed them through the doorway, carrying a plate of cakes to accentuate the tea.

She offered the plate to Harmony first. "Oh, no thank you," Harmony said quietly. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Not uncommon in brides," Bersa remarked, her cold demeanour striking Harmony like tiny shards of ice. She then offered the plate to Wilhelm, who plucked a cake from the top of the delicately arranged pile, uttering a soft thanks.

Bersa poured the tea, adding milk and sugar as each of them like, and then whisked herself away like a phantom. Harmony watched, looking around from her armchair, closely observing this hawk-like woman, both fascinated and intimidated at once.

"Don't mind her," Wilhelm said, beckoning her to turn back. His wife looked at him, puzzled. "You'll grow used to her and she won't ever bother you. Is there anything else I can get for you? Some fruit, pastries, meats?"

Harmony shook her head wordlessly. Wilhelm handed her cup and saucer to her, and she rested it delicately in her lap until it was cool enough to drink without scalding her mouth. The fire danced before her eyes and for once in that endless day she was able to enjoy the peace and quiet, detaching herself just that little bit. The tea was lightly flavoured with ginger, sweetened by the sugar.

There was much Wilhelm wanted to say to her, console her about, but it just wasn't the time. Whenever words came to mind he had to push them away, keeping himself confined to silence. However his mind was teeming, his mouth itching to make words. He wondered at that moment how she could be so easily content in mute darkness, elusively illuminated by the flame's caress. Harmony sipped until her cup was empty, at last compelling her will to unshackle the invisible choker around her throat, "I'd like to go to bed now please," she uttered in a dull monotone.

Wilhelm held her hand as they climbed the stairs to his chambers, where Harmony's belongings had already been stored and put away for her. Each step suffocated her senses, binding her with fear and a sensation of impending doom. Despite all her efforts, she hadn't been able to forget what came next.

A wedding needed a bedding.

Limply falling from Wilhelm's hand, Harmony tiptoed towards the bed, shaking by the time she reached the bedside. Reaching behind, her hands fumbled at the lacing of her lovely dress until it was loose enough for her to step out of, as it awkwardly pooled at her little feet. Stripped down to her undergarments, a small lacy white dress, the shuddering only grew all the more violent, and a lump moulded at the back of her throat.

"Stop," Wilhelm murmured.

Startled, bewildered, the maiden shakily looked back at him. A stab pierced Wilhelm's heart. So deathly pale and small, quivering and vulnerable, he knew that image would haunt his conscience forever if he let it go on for another moment.

"You don't have to…we don't have to," he said to her softly. "It's all right. I wouldn't let myself, I couldn't."

Harmony watched as he padded carefully over to the dark-wooded, gleaming wardrobe and pulled out a lilac robe. It took her a moment to register that it was one of her own. Like how one might approach a wild rabbit, Wilhelm handed the robe to her, and felt another stab at the sight of that trembling hand that reached out to take it. Harmony wrapped it tightly around her quaking frame, hugging herself around the middle.

"How old are you?" Wilhelm whispered.

"Sixteen," her answering voice was weakened through her vice-like throat.

"Sixteen," he repeated, lowering his head and it looked to Harmony like he was scolding himself. She flinched when his eyes suddenly captured hers, earnest and bold, "I shall not lie with you until you ask me to."

"But what if," Harmony began.

"There is more to life than that," Wilhelm cut her off gently. "Nothing has to happen, you can just go to sleep. There's a bathroom through that door if you need it."

Bowing her head, and keeping it low, Harmony fled into the adjoining room and locked the door with trembling fingers. Her hands came down on the cold rim of the sink, body arched over, face down. She coaxed herself to breathe deeply, in through the nose, out the mouth. Reluctantly, she glanced up. Pretty and haunted, that was the face staring back at her, and she was barely sure if she recognised it. It took longer than expected to pick out the flowers that had been woven in at the start of the day.

Already it seemed like a lifetime ago.

A few minutes later, Harmony emerged, like a ghost, from the bathroom, searching the room for her husband, and she quickly found him gazing out of the window. His features were soft, his eyes pensive and his spine slouched. Hearing her come back in, Wilhelm smiled gently at her, relieved to see that she was no longer shaking like a lost lamb in winter; now all she looked like was a lost lamb.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He could see he startled her with the question, and watched at the gears slipped into place behind her eyes before she gave a little nod. "I often read to my sister when she is downhearted about something. Anything in particular?" and this time he was answered with a shrug that made her look about twelve years old.

Wilhelm patted the side of the bed which would now be hers, then went to search his vast collection of books while Harmony climbed between the sheets, pulling them tight to her collar. He could feel those doe eyes on each of his movements, subconsciously sure not to make any sudden motions that might startle her. Chosen book in hand, he sat upright on his side of the bed, shuffling to get comfortable.

"I hope you'll like this one. I got it from Midgard myself," he told her.

Harmony blinked, amazed, "You've…been to Midgard?"

Wilhelm smiled, "Yes. Twice, actually. Now, just close your eyes and relax as best you can," he gently instructed.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harmony coaxed her body to try and settle, closing her eyes and turning her head away. As her husband began to read, she found an unexpected liking in his voice; quite deep, soft, with an edge of huskiness brought to it, a lulling tone. Before long, the actual words he spoke went practically unheard and all the mattered was just the sound of his voice.

And not long after that, Harmony heard no more, breathing in and out peacefully, the sorrow and emptiness lifted like storm clouds from her now serene face.

That was the first night she dreamt of Thor.

* * *

**Please let me know if you liked it!**

**What did you think of: The wedding feast, Wilhelm, Harmony's change in demeanour, Thor trying to console her, the journey back to Wilhelm's country house, Harmony and Wilhelm's wedding night, and the general gothic theme/style?**

**Love and hugs xxx**


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